


Glynn of Highpeak

by bolshoycorvid



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Giants, M/M, Macro/Micro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bolshoycorvid/pseuds/bolshoycorvid
Summary: Glynn never imagined that his whole life could be a lie. For years, he thought he was merely a giant from the mountains and nothing more...until the day he ventured down into the kingdom of Highpeak, where his whole life became flipped on its head. Revealed to be the cursed son of Highpeak's corrupt King, he took it upon himself to oust his father out of the throne and take it for himself and right wrongs the sins of his father. But, he's bit off far more than he could chew, and now must figure out how to rule a country he, quite literally, does not fit in.___________________________________________________________Please bare with me, the summary is bleh. This is a collection of mostly disconnected one-shots revolving around Glynn and the universe he lives in! To be honest, I'm not really sure what I want to do with this in the long-run, I think I just want a place to store them!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Ascension

The night in the North was as frigid as it ever would be, but the crowds gathered in the castle’s grounds could care less. Tonight was not a night to dwell on the unpleasant weather, nor of the whispers of rebellion far away from their twinkling capitol; it was a night of celebration. Music filled the air, sweet as honey and as lovely as a lullaby, while nobility danced and mingled their worries away.

None of them thought of the irony in their festivities…A night once dedicated to remembering a lost soul, now turned into one for song and dance. Their King and Queen’s only son had disappeared twenty-two years ago, barely a toddler. Originally, this night was dedicated to remembering the precious babe, and to the efforts they would make to find him again.

It was hard to tell when it became the grand party it was today…Though, some have their theories. The optimists, adorable in their naivety, posited that the shift in tone was merely for the well-being of their subjects. As the nation’s morale lowered, of course the King would want to raise their spirits! Let them dance, let them feast! For one night, may they forget their troubles and focus on a fresh start.

Others, wise as they kept their mouths shut, knew the truth. The elite didn’t need much to distract them–just dangle something pretty and fun in front of them, and they won’t have to pay attention to the bigger picture. How could the nation be starving, if they have so much food here? How could the nation be suffering, if such joy was found here? Why would there be whispers of a Rebellion in such a wonderful, prosperous land.

Unbeknownst to the joyful party-goers, the veil was about to lift for the first time in twenty-two years.

It all started with a thud…An odd sensation that shook the ground ever so slightly. As they were want to do, many ignored it–probably just the castle’s gates dropping, they thought. But, to their bewilderment…they felt it again. And again. Louder and louder did the sound become, and soon it wasn’t just a slight shaking that rocked them, but a tremor. A fearful scream tore through the air, and the crowd looked to the distance, their blood running ice cold at the sight before them.

A massive, looming shape rose over the horizon. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell what it truly was–some sort of beast? Whatever it was, it was obvious that its footsteps were what was causing the quakes. Panic erupted like wildfire among the guests, and they scrambled to flee, falling on top of each other like a house of cards in their desperation.

The creature approached, its gait confident and unrelenting. The glow of lit arrows could be seen soaring into it, only to bounce off as if they were nothing. The King was shouting at whatever guard was closest to him to assemble the troops–he wanted this thing dead…but it was no use. The being had already crashed through the city gates, headed straight for the castle.

It was clear as it approached that this thing was, in fact, a man. An enormous man, whom the King seemed so afraid of that he was willing to knock over whoever was in his way just to get away from him. Though, as the giant approached, it became clear that no one was going to be able to leave. The ground shook so much it was a miracle that the guests could even stand, and then, where would they go?

Cornered, many merely stared up as the beast finally came to a stop outside the festival area. The King, eyes wild and heart racing, could do nothing else but cower…and then scream as the giant began to bend downwards, his huge hand reaching forward to grab the pitiful King in his grip. With the giant’s face finally lit by the nearby torches, several shocked gasps were heard above the frightened shouts and panicked grunts.

The face was a reflection of their King’s, albeit younger…with kinder eyes than their King ever had. The giant’s mouth split into a wide, smug smile, as he addressed the man squirming in his palm.

“It’s so good to be home, father.”


	2. Power

The coronation was held today.

What a depressing show it was, too. he had knelt outside Castle Maelor in front of an audience that stood deathly still below him. A crowd of scared, uneasy folk who were clearly none too happy to have the man who besieged their city now crowned their king. The archbishop stuttered through the rites, just as frightened of the colossus as everyone else, but he had to give the tiny man credit for trying.

When presented the crown, there was nothing to be done with it. His father’s crown, that symbol of rule passed down from generation to generation…It would not fit on his head nor his fingers, as small as it was. He had merely held the bead-sized thing in his hand awkwardly, glancing at it as if it would turn white hot and burn his skin.

“I…I present to you His Majesty, the undoubted King Cadf-”

“Glynn.”

His voice was thunder above them, a penetrating rumble from on high that scared the faint of heart out of their wits. To him, though…It was merely a statement, done with no ill-intent, and the adverse reaction he received only served to make him flinch as if slapped. All he could do was bow his head in apology, and from then on Glynn would say nothing more.

“Right…I present to you His Majesty, the undoubted King Glynn of Highpeak. May His reign be long.”

Those who cheered were the few who knew him as he was, those rebellious souls who worked hard and long to reach where they were today, but their voices were quiet things drowned out by the suffocating silence from the rest of the onlookers.

Glynn rose to his feet, feeling exposed as he stood over the capitol’s population. They looked to him in anticipation, as if expecting something, anything from the giant monarch…He merely bowed to his people, a move that left them just as confused as they were already shocked, and bid them farewell. His people would celebrate today, feasts and festivities planned for as long as the night is long.

Himself, however…He did not partake in the merrymaking. Glynn sat some distance away, far enough away from the noise and the crowds, but still close enough to observe. The crown was still in his hand, that shining symbol of power that had subjugated the people of Highpeak for decades.

Power…what a funny thing it was. It came in so many shapes and forms, and Glynn had only just begun to appreciate them. There were obvious forms, like the tiny crown he held, and the magic that flowed through his veins like a lightning strike…And it was the little things. Power was the way those tiny buildings shook from his footfalls passing through the capitol, power was the craning of necks from beings smaller than his thumb…

Power was something as small as his voice, echoing through a quiet city, and silencing everything in its wake.

Power was what let his father subjugate his people for so long, like a parasite feeding off its host.

And it made Glynn sick to his stomach to think that the same power, if not more, rested within him now. The lives of an entire nation at his mercy, all because he had the misfortune of being a tyrant’s son. As he stared at the crown in his hand, contempt began to well up inside of him. This tiny, gaudy thing…He decided it and everything it represented would cause no more pain.

He crushed the crown between his fingers and threw it to the side like it was nothing more than a speck of lint.

“May the Gods strike me down” He whispered. “If my power becomes absolute.”


	3. The Knight

Did it speak of her bravery when Amelia Krol felt no dread at the news of their new, or of her stupidity? The Order of the North had faithfully served Highpeak’s ruling family for generations, but all but a few handfuls of young pages and barely trained squires had remained after the king’s coronation. Many resigned out of fear; others, disgust. None could stomach the thought of serving a ruler that, in their eyes, was nothing more than a bloodthirsty giant come to ravage their land. The man had royal blood, but even with all the proof in the world, the very idea that this towering man could have ever been the lost Prince Cadfael–Glynn, as he preferred to be called–was, for many, too much to swallow.

Amelia deemed them cowards, the whole lot of them. Run away, she thought. Betray your oaths and run for the hills, they wouldn’t need such chickenhearted traitors.

She was a knight, but only barely. Women were given the title, sure, but they were regarded about the same as a squire would be: incompetent, weak, a nuisance. Amelia trained harder than she had any reason to, spent years listening to old men chide her for “wasting her time trying to get above her station”. Go to the kitchens, they said. They could use an extra scullery maid. And where were these men now? Gone, of course! Fled for their lives, honor be damned! And where was she? Right where she needed to be, right where she deserved to be.

With no one else able, or willing to step up to the plate, Amelia had named herself the captain of the Royal Guard. A daunting task, considering that not only did a vast majority of former-knights (among others!) currently wanted her charge dead, the man she was slated to protect could use a sword like a damn toothpick! It didn’t deter her in the slightest–if anything, she relished in the challenge.

She should have prepared herself for the sheer absurdity of her task.

The day after his coronation, Amelia had decided to finally meet him face-to-face…She had seen him from afar, most everyone had, but to truly be in his presence was just as confusing as it was awe-inspiring. She had the mental image of what a giant should look like in her head, those great big ugly brutes born with bodies thick with muscle, hungry eyes looking to gobble up unsuspecting humans, and thunderous voices that slurred something guttural and primitive. Her king was…nothing like that.

What caught her off-guard was how human he looked. He was merely a man, the spitting image of his regal father before him, and it almost shook her to her core. Nothing that big should look like her, it almost didn’t seem real. Amelia was almost compelled to leave this for another day to get her bearings, but found herself being rushed up to greet the man by an entourage of officials hustling and bustling as they attempted to get through the king’s busy schedule.

He sat outside, of course, in the open expanse of the castle grounds. There was no place big enough for him to reside.

Amelia turned her gaze skyward as she was brought up to him. He looked down at her with a thousand different thoughts in his eyes. Exhaustion, anxiety, but at the forefront was curiosity. There was a kindness to his eyes that most others did not have, the spark of humanity that so many had claimed he lacked. She broke line of sight to briefly kneel to him, as was custom, and in response heard what sounded like a wince from high above her.

“No, don’t…don’t do that. Please.” The giant murmured. Amelia fought a reflexive scowl off her face as she rose to her feet again.

“And why not, your highness? You are my king, and as your knight, I–” She began, only for him to cut her off with a raise of his hand. He looked deeply apologetic, but nevertheless, continued.

“I don’t need a knight. You…you don’t have to serve me, I know the rest of your fellows have left. I won’t hold you to oaths that did not prepare you for, er. This.” Glynn gestured to himself, as if that justified any of the cowshite coming out of his great big mouth. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

She didn’t know why, but his dismissal did something to her. Amelia acted on pure impulse then and there, heart pounding in her ears as she stared up at the giant king with spite in her eyes. She leaped at him then, like a woman possessed, and began to climb up his body not unlike a spider crawling up a tree. There was a deafening yelp from Glynn, who quickly rose to his feet, trying desperately to grab her and pull her off of him.

“What are you doing!?” He asked, frantically as she began scaling up his arm. “You’ll fall, you’ll be hurt, please miss–” All his pleading went ignored as she continued, dodging fingers the size of tree trunks fumbling around to grab her. When she reached his shoulder, she unsheathed her sword and made a bolt for the crook of his neck, holding her minuscule-by-comparison blade up against his flesh…against a vital vein, just barely about to break the skin. She was close enough to hear his heartbeat pound and pound like a drum, and the world went deathly still.

“Do not think yourself so invincible that us little folk cannot strike you down, your highness!” Amelia shouted up at him, knuckles turning white against the hilt of her sword. “How easy it would be to slice your neck wide open! To inject you with poison you could barely even feel! If you think for a second your enemies won’t take advantage of your carelessness, then I envy your stupidity!”

The tiny knight pulled her sword away, and stood tall upon the shoulder of her charge, who stared down at her with eyes wider than dinner plates.

“I took an oath, your majesty! So long as you rule and I am able, no harm will come to you. If I could not even protect a giant, then what sort of knight am I!?"


	4. First Impressions

Glynn knew the delegation was coming for at least a week and some change now, and what had he done to prepare for it? Absolutely nothing. In fact, as Amelia was so keen on telling him, it was like he was doing everything in his power to _not_ set aside the time for a little preparation for his guests. All he knew was that they were from one of Highpeak’s allies to the East, and that the delegation consisted of a few nobles and a King’s cousin…Officially, they were here to welcome him on his succession to the throne.

Everyone and their mother knew what they were really here for, however. Rumors spread like wildfire ever since he arrived, and these visitors certainly weren’t going to be the first who had come to Highpeak wanting to see if the gossip held any weight to it, but they _were_ the first nobles to reach out to him–Glynn supposed he should feel humiliated. After all, he was practically a circus attraction at best, and at worst? A bloodthirsty monster. But, like with many things in the past month, all he felt was this…numbness. Like it hadn’t really hit him yet, the sheer enormity of everything he was, and _would_ be for the rest of his life.

The servants had done a fantastic job sprucing up the gardens in preparation for the delegation’s arrival, even though Glynn had insisted it was fine the way it had been. Tables and chairs were set up around the flowers, all lined with a bountiful feast harvested straight from the castle’s farm. Though he _was_ informed it was…rude, not to have a more private place to meet, they didn’t have much choice. Glynn could fit in the castle if he crammed himself into it, but it was neither comfortable for him nor safe for the humans milling about beneath him.

Besides…he liked how open it was. It felt right, not to hide behind closed doors. There would be no secrets in this kingdom, if he had any say on the matter.

Glynn sat cross-legged and stiff as a board, all the nerves he’d been so desperately trying to push away and stamp out _finally_ starting to come to the surface. Amelia stood right by him (where else would she be?), looking up at him with an unreadable expression.

“You’re scared.” She said plainly.

“Scared? No, no, why would I be–” He began, and was quickly cut off by his tiny knight.

“It’s okay to say it, your majesty. You’re not exempt from your anxieties just because you’re bloody enormous. Get off your high horse.”

Even if he resented her for being right (she was _always_ right…), her sass still got a rumbling chuckle out of him, and a smile rested on his lips as his spirits were ever so slightly lifted. “I’ll hop off mine as soon as you do yours, Captain Krol.” He responded, and much to his infinite delight, managed to carve out the barest of grins on his knight’s little face. One day, he’d crumble her stony exterior entirely.

From across the gardens, a crier called out. Their guests had finally arrived.

“Presenting…Martin Locklay, Duke of Risea!”

Glynn rose to his feet, squinting as he tried to make out the delegation among the crowd of tiny folk walking around on the ground. When he did, he quickly gave them a courteous bow, just as he had been taught to do. Clearly, his form was still not up to par, because the act elicited an uproar of laughter from who he could only assume was Martin.

“Look at him!” The sniveling man said. “You look like a drunkard, lumbering there as you do! Sit back down, sit back down, before you fall over and turn us to pulp!”

His heart was beating in his ears, his face red as an apple, but Glynn did not say a word in response. The giant man sat back down, just as he was told, like a dog reprimanded. Down below, he could see Amelia bristle up, but she did not strike. She knew just as much as he did that first impressions were everything, and it would only look terribly upon both him and Highpeak if the King’s knight lashed out at the slightest of provocations.

“It…It is an honor to meet you, my lord. I welcome you to our kingdom, and I only hope that your stay.”

The Duke looked up at him, amusement still flickering in his eyes, a sneer present on his lips. The man was no bigger than one of Glynn’s fingers, but even still, he felt impossibly small under that gaze. Insignificant, dissected, judged. “…’Our’ kingdom? My boy, it is _your_ kingdom.” Martin said, incredulously. “Oh, my…but it isn’t really _yours_ now is it? You robbed this land of its true king, I hear.”

Glynn froze, starting to speak but nothing coming out from his mouth save for a few shocked sputters.

“Your ‘father’, I believe you claimed he was? How dreadful, if such a claim is true. Kin should never go against kin. The son should respect the father, all of that. Whatever happened to King Laurent, anyhow? The stories grow a bit murky around that part, dear boy. Some say you killed him; others, that he ran off…I personally found the tall tale of you eating him up like an afternoon snack _quite_ entertaining. Your kind are ever so partial to such brutality.”

He felt like a frog had jumped down his throat and choked him. Glynn was stuck in shocked silence for what seemed like an eternity, before he finally found his voice and croaked out his answer. “…I am not a maneater, sir, we–he’s fine. My father has been imprisoned, and I’m sorry that such nasty rumors have managed to reach Ri…Ris…er,-”

“Risea. For a man with a head so large, your mind is so woefully empty isn’t it?”

The Duke’s laughter was deafening, all encompassing, it felt like it was attacking him from all sides. Glynn, unconsciously, curled forward as it became harder and harder to breathe, to _focus_. And all the while, vile words kept spilling from Martin’s mouth like a waterfall of poison, leading Glynn further and further to despair. Glynn screwed his eyes shut, as if that would help block it out.

“I don’t know why I entertained this visit, but it did confirm what I already knew. You’re nothing more than a boy playing King, a _thief_ and a liar! Your kingdom will fall to ruin under you, and your people will rise up against the _monster_ holding them hostage-”

“ ** _ENOUGH_**!”

Glynn’s shout was loud, even for him. It was a clap of thunder against the silent evening, rattling windows and plates and sending whatever was not tied down toppling over. He stood up once again to his full height, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into the skin and his knuckles turned bone white. He was breathing so hard his shoulders shook, and he stared down at Martin with enough seething hatred in his enormous eyes that it was a miracle the man didn’t combust right there. For a moment, the Duke was staring up at him with nothing short of undiluted fear, finally having been laid low and only by a mere shout.

But that fear was enough to suck all the newfound energy right out of the giant. He took a few steps back, shoulders slumping…and it was as if a dam had broken in his heart. All the stress and pressure he’d bottled up and stowed away in the month since he’d taken the throne finally poured out of him in waves, and all Glynn could do was run.

He turned on his heel and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving behind panicked shouts, an uproar from the crowd below, and the sound of Amelia calling his name.

Glynn ran until the castle was nothing more than a backdrop, something he could leave behind if only for just a while. He ran to the woods, where the tall trees just barely concealed him when he fell to his knees with an earth-shaking crash. From below, there was the smaller sound of a thud, like something had fallen over…and a quiet, barely audible ‘oof!’. Shivering like a leaf, still heaving with heavy breaths, Glynn’s gaze turned to whatever had made the sound.

On the ground stood Amelia, looking like she’d just been through Hell and back.

“A…Amelia, what, _how_ …”

“Didn’t you hear me shouting down here!? I’ve been clutching onto your boot for dear life, you bloody impossible _fool_!”

Glynn blinked at her, and after a moment of silence that lasted far too long for _anyone’s_ comfort…he made a choked sound in the back of his throat. He tried to hide it, he gave it his all, but there was no stopping the waterworks once they started. He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed hard as sobs wracked his body. “I’m sorry,” He began, unable to or unwilling to even _try_ to control his volume. “I’m so sorry, I’m…I’m a fraud, I know I am, I can’t do _anything_ right, Amelia–”

Fat droplets of his tears fell to the ground, soaking everything they touched. Amelia’s gaze, initially stern, quickly softened as she watched her king just…break into little pieces in front of her. Carefully, she came forward, placing her hand on his knee to give him _some_ comfort.

“I _knew_ I couldn’t do this, I _knew_ it…I’m a nobody from the mountains, I couldn’t be _king_! But I…I thought someone had to make up for all my father did. And look where I got us, Amelia! A country in chaos, a _useless_ godsdamn leader–”

“Stop that.” Amelia snapped, though she meant to say it as kindly as she could. “Just…stop it, Glynn. Pick me up, so I can knock some sense into you proper.”

Wide-eyed and sniffling, Glynn did as he was told. As carefully as he could manage, he cupped Amelia’s tiny body in his hands and lifted her up to eye-level. When she got her bearings, she leaned forward to press her hands against his cheeks, doing her best to wipe his waterfall of tears away.  
“…You’re doing your best, your majesty.” She said in a voice softer than Glynn could have ever imagined coming from her. “You’ve done more than I think anyone else in your position could have, but you just–you can’t do this on your own, you know. You think you have to hold the weight of the world _solely_ on your shoulders, but you _don’t_. You never did.” Amelia stepped forward, and pressed herself up against the giant’s face, hugging him as tight as she could manage.

“Your rebellion friends are still here, yeah? And your advisors want to help you as much as they can…And I’m here, Glynn. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

Amelia could feel the soft vacuum of air around her as Glynn gasped, and allowed one last sob to coarse through his body. Next to her, his lips lifted in an unsteady smile, and blue eyes stared down at her with enough warmth and care to last a lifetime. He pulled her a little closer to his face, exhaling a quiet sigh. “…I know, Amelia. Thank you.”

“You’re _very_ welcome, your majesty. Now, can we get home? I’m positively _soaked_ and it’s all your fault.”


End file.
